In the Hallways Of Hogwarts
by disturbinglyprofound
Summary: Previously "Trouble." Due to requests, this will become a series of one-shots depicting Blaise and Padma's relationship over the years. One chapter per year, with an extra before Hogwarts and after it. Stay tuned for updates. Rating will probably change later on.
1. Prequel: Trouble

**TO READERS: A little one-shot to celebrate the end of my exams – woo-hoo! – and a step back into the past. Blaise and Padma have a bit of a childhood moment in the Malfoy library. Takes place a year (or two) before Hogwarts. **

**I own nothing. But the plot.**

**Trouble**

There was a time, long before Hogwarts, when things like 'house loyalty' didn't matter. Blood purity, however, was a belief that was instilled in Purebloods from childhood.

Blaise, whose mother was already on husband number three, was taught that the only girl he would marry would be one that was either extremely rich or extremely poor. That way, at least, he wouldn't be taken advantage of for his money. Rich girls had their own wealth to rely on, while the poor had made do. He didn't care much about girls yet, anyway. He was only nine.

Padma's family was much more accepting. She was told that she could wed whomever she wanted, just as long as he treated her properly. She was also taught, alongside her sister Parvati, to take no nonsense – from anyone.

When the Malfoy clan held an extravagant, beauteous party, the Pureblooded children of Harry Potter's generation were corralled into the library, put to sit quietly and chat amongst themselves in the dignified manner in which such children should behave, the way that they were _expected _to behave.

Even at the age of nine, Padma had already developed a fierce love for books, and being inside of the Malfoy library, with its thousands of books available, was like a dream come true. She abandoned her sister, who was having an animated conversation with a young Pansy Parkinson, and took off on a self-imposed tour.

She trailed her fingers along the ancient spines – the ones she could reach – and mouthed the big words without sound, trying to figure out what she should read first.

"What are you doing?" asked a little boy's voice. She spun, recognizing the drawl of Draco Malfoy. He was wearing robes of black; it was probably why she hadn't noticed him.

"I – I was –"

"My parents told me that no one was to touch the books," he said coolly. It didn't matter that he was nine; Malfoy was already groomed to be the callous, manipulative bully that he'd prove to be at Hogwarts. "So stop touching them."

"Sorry," said Padma, cheeks flaming. She hated getting in trouble, and the fact that she was being chastised by a boy the same age as her made it even more embarrassing. She hurried to rejoin the others, who'd barely noticed that she was gone. While house loyalty meant nothing, popularity did. And her sister was one of the most popular children there. Padma slipped beside her sister, listening to her tell a dramatic story to a crowd of rapturous future Slytherins.

Later, Padma would wonder why they hadn't stayed friends upon their admittance to Hogwarts, but then she figured that house loyalty, as most Slytherins seemed to think, meant everything.

"Your sister is irritating," murmured someone. Padma's eyes widened first at the remark – she wasn't sure that _anyone _could dislike her sister – and then at the person who'd spoken.

"Irritating?" said Padma. Blaise Zabini, adorable in his sleek robes, was sitting in a velvet-clothed chair, reading a thick volume that had obviously been stolen from the Mythology section of the library. Draco seemed to be nowhere in sight, though. Perhaps Blaise had disregarded the no-book-touching rule and simply touched. He seemed like the type.

"Yes. Do you know what that word means, or are you as stupid as your silly sister?" he asked her.

Padma scowled. While being compared to her sister in terms of beauty or friendliness was more than welcome, any resemblance of intelligence was insulting. She knew her sister wasn't the most intellectual girl around, but hearing others speak about it was downright rude.

"You shut up about my sister," she bit back. "At least she's not a prat like you."

"I'd rather be a prat than stupid," said Blaise, tossing the book aside. "Listening to her idiotic stories. Honestly, does she think about what she says?"

Padma glared. Blaise grinned. He hadn't quite mastered the smirk as Draco had just yet.

"Would you like to read a book?" he asked her instead. Padma forgot about her anger when he offered her the novel he'd been perusing rather extensively. She hesitated, still a bit annoyed, but then reached out to take the volume.

"What is it?"

"Centaurs," he replied.

"Oh," she breathed. "Mummy wouldn't let me see them when we visited Hogwarts. She said they're dangerous."

"Yeah, well, they're not so terrifying. They're just proud." Blaise shrugged.

Padma's eyes widened. "You mean you've seen them up close?"

He nodded, trying to appear nonchalant, and Padma, in her naivety, believed him. "Wow!"

"It's not so exciting."

"What are you talking about?" asked Parvati. Blaise and Padma turned to look at her and the crowd of children.

"Centaurs," said Padma, pointing at the book. Parvati's eyes lit up.

"Did I tell you all about the time we visited Hogwarts and met the centaurs living there?" she said to the children. Blaise, out of the corner of Padma's peripheral vision, rolled his eyes. But he wouldn't tell, she knew that – he was simply too polite.

"Er," Padma interrupted. Parvati's gaze flickered over to her twin. "We didn't see the centaurs, Parvati."

"Yes, we did," replied Parvati, clearly surprised. "Remember?"

Padma shook her head. "Mummy wouldn't let us."

"You mean," said Millicent Bulstrode, "you lied to us?"

"Lying is wrong," Daphne Greengrass scolded, always the goody-two-shoes. "I'm telling my mother."

She stood up, taking the hand of her younger sister Astoria, and left the library quickly. Parvati stood from her chair and ran after them, as anxious as Padma about getting in trouble. She threw a glare at her sister, both angry and confused, before she left, the heavy wooden doors closing behind the girls.

Blaise looked impressed. "I didn't think you would –"

"It just... slipped out," said Padma. "I'm sorry."

She reeled back in shock when he barked out a laugh. "Why are you apologizing to me?" he asked her, chuckling. "You didn't betray _me."_

"I didn't _betray _her," argued Padma. "I just... exposed her lies."

Blaise was watching her curiously, his laughter having died away. "You're a puzzle, Padma," he said quietly, and she blinked. She didn't think he knew her name. Everyone else called her Parvati's sister. But perhaps Blaise wasn't like everyone else. He noticed the little things that people missed. Like Parvati's tendency to tell outrageous stories.

"A puzzle?" she repeated.

He nodded. "But I like puzzles," he said, and one side of his mouth rose in a half-smile, suspended in time for only a moment, before he was spiteful-looking again.

But when Padma and her sister were taken home that night, their parents having finished socializing and drinking, she was still smiling.

* * *

**Review. =D**


	2. First Year: Loyalty

**Note: I've decided to turn that one-shot into a series of one-shots, each new one depicting a new year at Hogwarts. The first one was a prequel of sorts. This one is first year. The next will be second year, then third, etcetera, up to seventh year (or the year of the War). The final one-shot will be after the War. Hope that's alright with you, readers. :)**

**I do not own Harry Potter, as usual.**

**First Year: Loyalty**

It really didn't matter whether or not the Pureblood children were friends, because their Sorting at Hogwarts was really the determining factor of their continuing kinship. At first, it seemed alright – most of them were Sorted into Slytherin house. Draco and Theo, Blaise's closest friends, had already been Sorted into Slytherin house, but while they chatted animatedly about upcoming Quidditch games and House Cups, he stood in the middle of a crowd of first-years like himself, his eyes trained toward the front as he waited for his turn.

He was really looking around for at least one half of the Patil twins, because where one twin was, the other was usually close by.

"Patil, Padma!"

They were sorted in alphabetical order – he knew that Parvati had been born first. It didn't matter, of course. He'd always liked Padma better. And he was sure that, unlike her so obviously Gryffindor-bound sister, she would be a Slytherin. She was intelligent, witty and very ambitious – it didn't occur to him that at least some of those qualities might make her a better fit for Ravenclaw.

"Ravenclaw!"

But the house spoke. And Blaise was disappointed.

He glumly watched as Padma excitedly jumped off the stool, hurried to meet her new Ravenclaw housemates. At least they were Pureblooded as well, though he knew some of the girls – specifically McDougal – their families were known for being Muggle-lovers. He hoped Padma wouldn't become a blood traitor as well. It was even more devastating than having her be Sorted into Ravenclaw.

Parvati Patil was Sorted into Gryffindor, as he expected, and at long last – dead last – he was Sorted into Slytherin. He wasn't as happy about it as he had been a few moments ago.

From the Ravenclaw table, Padma smiled apologetically at him. He didn't bother looking at her. It was apparent that their future relations had already been cemented.

* * *

Padma and her sister were supposed to attend Beauxbatons. But, for the same reason that Draco Malfoy had not been enrolled at Durmstrang – namely, their mothers' fear of their children being so far from home – both Patil twins instead went to Hogwarts. Their father had gone to Hogwarts as well, but their mother had been a Beauxbatons student. When they tried to use that argument to allow admittance there – it was only because Beauxbatons castle, to their superficial children's eyes, seemed much prettier and less scary than Hogwarts – their mother denied their admittance, stating that she had been living in France.

"We are living in Britain now, girls," she said firmly. "You will go to Hogwarts." And then she'd send them off to their father for a good story about their future school.

But now, knowing that so many of her childhood friends were attending the same school made Padma a little happier to be there. Besides, form the inside, Hogwarts seemed just as nice as Beauxbatons, perhaps even nicer – it seemed homier. She always liked comfort. Parvati preferred the extravagance and grandeur of Beauxbatons still, until Padma told her to stuff it and accept their new home.

Blaise was here, she reminded herself. And he knew Hogwarts well. He would give her all the information she needed about it.

She was wrong.

While blood purity had never been a problem for them – they were both Purebloods, after all – the 'house loyalty' she had not been privy to had suddenly shown up to severely jeopardize Blaise and Padma's future friendship. He was more than aware of it, but she didn't know.

* * *

He had to explain it to her in the middle of a crowded hallway, when she tugged on his robes to get his attention. He'd been going to Potions, and she to Charms.

"Oi!" she called. He recognized her sweet, childhood voice easily, even amidst the crowd, but he ignored her. Of course, she had to nearly pull off his robes in response.

"_What?" _he said impatiently. Padma looked taken aback.

"We haven't spoken to each other in a while," she said, timidly. "I just wanted to –"

"To what?" he bit back. He glanced around to see if anyone was watching, then took her to an adjoining corridor, one that was thankfully empty. "Look, Padma," he sighed, "things are different now that we're at Hogwarts –"

"What do you mean, 'different'?" she repeated. "What's different?"

"You're a Ravenclaw," he told her. "And I'm a Slytherin."

"So?"

"You associate with half-bloods or worse."

"You mean Muggle-borns?"

"Yeah." He breathed deeply. "It's – it's not proper."

"Why not?"

Honestly, she was behaving like a child. It was apparent that her parents were blood traitors as well, never telling their daughters about something as important as _blood purity. _

"You're a Pureblood," he said.

"Blaise, I don't understand –" And now she was _biting her lip. _How much more of a child could she _be? _

"Don't call me Blaise," he interrupted her harshly. "From now on, I'm not Blaise. I'm Zabini. And you're Patil."

"Why?" This time, when she asked the question, she looked defiant. "It's not as if we're _strangers," _she spat. "We know each other."

"Not anymore."

And then he left.

* * *

**Poor Padma. What a crash course into what's apparently 'proper.' :( Anyway, hope you enjoyed, and please, review!**


	3. Second Year: Relief

**Second year is underway! :) Sorry about the late update... I was otherwise occupied.**

**I don't own Harry Potter or its characters. **

**Second Year: Relief**

Hogwarts, from Padma's two years of experience, was turning out to be a very grim place to spend one's time, at least from what she'd seen. The rest of first year had been a blur of adventures, from detention to Harry Potter's discovery of the Philosopher's Stone to Voldemort's return. Though she knew such life-or-death situations should obviously trump her more superficial problems, Padma's mind kept going back to the beginning of first year, when Blaise had coldly educated her on what it meant for him to be a Slytherin and her a Ravenclaw.

"Oi! Padma!"

She raised her eyes from the book she was reading. Terry Boot, a housemate of hers, was standing near the portrait entrance, looking very distressed. Then again, he was usually stressed about something – his grades were the single most important thing in his life, and as he liked to mention often, OWLs were in a mere three years. Padma looked like a class-skipping slacker next to him, though she did like the fact that her marks were higher than his.

"What is it, Terry?" she asked.

"There's something in the corridor near Moaning Myrtle's bathroom! Come see!" He beckoned her with a less-than-patient hand. "Everyone else is going to see it!"

The tone in his voice made her think that perhaps this wasn't a simple homework crisis and was actually something more. Padma left her book on the couch and followed her fellow second-year out of the portrait.

* * *

The crowd was enormous by the time they reached the bathroom, and being a petite second-year, she didn't see much. Terry was already pushing his way to the front, and so, she followed him, smiling sheepishly at the sixth- and seventh-years glaring down at them. Even in a corridor, the houses were divided. On one side stood the Slytherins in a tight pack, then beside them the Hufflepuffs, then the Gryffindors, and finally the Ravenclaws.

Padma turned her attention to the wall and gasped.

"The Chamber of Secrets has been opened?" she whispered loudly to Terry. He nodded. "But – I thought it was –"

"I thought it was a myth, too." He looked terrified. "What do you suppose 'enemies of the heir, beware' means?"

Padma blinked. "I – I don't know." She bit her lip worriedly. "Do you think they'll close down the school?"

Terry's reply was interrupted by the arrogant blather of one Draco Malfoy.

"'Enemies of the heir, beware'?" he said loudly. Looking straight at the Gryffindors, he smirked. "You'll be next, Mudbloods."

Padma scowled. Always the bigot.

"Mudbloods?" Terry repeated. "I'm a half-blood. D'you think I'm in danger?"

"I don't know," said Padma once more, afraid of her lack of knowledge. Never had she felt so unprepared and inexperienced. It was one thing to read about the terrifying Chamber of Secrets in a dusty library textbook. To have it exist and be an instrument of death was another matter entirely.

* * *

Across from Padma, Blaise stood quietly next to Draco, listening to his friend's characteristically Slytherin comments. He could see Padma at the front of the crowd, her thirst for knowledge evident even in situations like these, her mouth twisted into a frown when she heard what Malfoy had to say.

They were herded back to their respective dormitories by the word of the Headmaster, and as an older Slytherin Prefect led them to the dungeons, Blaise couldn't resist looking back to see if Padma had left as well. All he saw was Crabbe's grinning face.

"Finally," he said gaily. "Those Mudbloods'll be wiped out."

Blaise nodded.

"What are you so quiet about?" said Draco suddenly. "Usually you're the first to insult them. Don't tell me you've got a soft spot, now –"

"I don't," Blaise interrupted harshly, too harshly. "I've just been – thinking."

"You're always thinking," Draco said, rolling his eyes, continuing on. "I'm just glad that the scum of this school will finally be gone. It's so insulting, having to brush cloaks with unworthy people." His lip curled. "Like that Mudblood Granger."

Goyle and Crabbe echoed the sentiment. Blaise was only relieved that Padma was a Pureblood.


	4. Third Year: Secret

**I do not own Harry Potter or its characters. :)**

**Third Year: Secret**

Somewhere between second and third year, Blaise's walls broke down. It began, he remembered, when Padma flounced past him, not bothering to offer him a glance of acknowledgement, and she dropped her wand in the process. He remembered wondering how anyone could possibly drop their _wand, _of all things, and because he had been with Theodore Nott, one of the milder Slytherins, he had taken the opportunity to give it back to her. She was grateful, and he was pleased that she'd at least talk to him.

Correspondence began by Owl, over the summer, and by the beginning of third year, their friendship had started up again. It all had to be done in secret, for Padma, thankfully, had lost some of that innocence and had realized that the two of them being openly friendly with one another would cause a bit of a problem for their two houses.

* * *

Parvati fancied herself as a bit of a funny girl. In her early years of Hogwarts, before she became a slave to makeup and hair products, she was a teasing, playful kind of Gryffindor, not as out there as Fred and George Weasley, but enough to want to take advantage of the fact that she had a twin. It was more to try being the serious twin than anything, when she borrowed a set of Padma's Ravenclaw robes.

Padma had been in her jeans and sweater at the time, and wasn't quite aware of the switch until she began hearing strange stories about Padma Patil skipping down the corridors, running about outside and other things she wasn't very well-known for doing. And all the time, she'd been in the library, studying. But no one went to the library on the weekend, except possibly Hermione Granger, but she was off with Ron Weasley and Harry Potter today.

Parvati didn't think much would come of her little prank on her sister – at least, Padma didn't seem like the sort of person to harbour secrets and other private things. She was too naïve.

* * *

There was one particular corridor, rather empty because it was a cold October day and the hallway was open to the cold breeze, where Parvati took a bit of a breather and decided to have a seat upon one of the half-walls. She wasn't alone for long, though. A few seconds after she sat down, a familiar Slytherin sauntered around the corner, looking up out of habit. Parvati expected him to offer a look of derision, as Slytherins were wont to doing, but instead, he gave her a little smile.

"It's a bit cold to be sitting out here, isn't it, Padma?" he asked quietly.

Now, Parvati had a bit of a dilemma. She could either play along to see what was revealed of her sister's private life with this abhorrent Slytherin, or she could tell him the truth now. It wasn't really a contest. "I needed some fresh air," she replied, working to look demure.

"You'll catch a cold," said Blaise. There was a slight smirk on his lips. "Do you want my cloak?"

"I have one already," said Parvati, raising an eyebrow. The tiny smirk quickly developed into a huge one.

"Alright, girl who thinks she knows everything," smirked Blaise, leaning back.

There was a lull in the conversation, but Parvati noticed that Blaise didn't seem too worried about it. She, on the other hand, was uncomfortable with the silence.

"How's... school?" she said hesitantly.

"Fine," he said casually. "Potions is a pain in the arse, though. Malfoy's always favoured by Snape, you can tell."

"But you're in Snape's house," Parvati couldn't help pointing out.

"I know," Blaise sighed. "But I'm not Snape's godson."

_Godson? _"I –"

"I told you, Padma," he murmured, "that I don't like talking about me. Tell me about _you – _tell me about the time you first rode on a broomstick."

Parvati blinked. The first time Padma had ridden a broomstick was first year, but Parvati had been with the Slytherins then, and Padma with the Hufflepuffs. She had no idea of how it had gone – Padma refused to disclose the "embarrassing" details – and from the look on Blaise's face, it seemed that Padma had told the story already. "Er..."

Blaise raised an eyebrow. His mouth opened to say something, but he was interrupted by the presence of another person.

"_Parvati!" _came the angry voice of her sister. Blaise's head snapped back to her, eyes widening. Padma caught up to them, wearing her casual clothing, and Blaise gaped.

"You – you're Parvati –" he said, flabbergasted. Padma was glaring.

"Give me back my cloak!" demanded Padma. Parvati hurriedly handed it to her sister, intending to leave quickly. Padma stopped her with an arm.

"I can keep a secret," said Parvati quickly. "I mean – Blaise seems nice when he's not –"

"Who are you kidding?" said Padma. "You can't keep secrets. Lavender told you about the trophy she broke and you blurted it out to the first person who asked!"

"That was Lavender?" said Blaise incredulously.

"See?" Parvati pointed at her sister. "You can't keep secrets either!"

"Well, obviously I can," retorted Padma, gesturing at Blaise.

"Why?" cried Parvati. "We're sisters – you're supposed to tell me everything!"

"You wouldn't understand," said Padma, quieting down, glancing at Blaise. "He's... he's not the kind of person everyone thinks he is."

"I know _that,_" said Parvati, offering a contrite smile to the Slytherin. He glared in response.

"You had better keep it to yourself," he threatened. "Or else –"

"Or else what?" said Parvati. "You'll Obliviate me?"

His lips curled. "If it comes to that, yes."

"Blaise," said Padma, softly. He looked at her, his harsh expression changing almost immediately. It was mesmerizing to watch. There was obviously some sort of connection between her sister and this Slytherin. "Parvati can keep a secret if she really wants to." She looked up at her sister. "Right, Parvati?"

The other twin nodded. "I won't tell anyone," she promised.

"Do you swear?" asked Padma, looking very serious, more serious than Parvati had ever seen her. This meant a lot, Parvati could tell. And she would do her best to honour her sister's wishes. But it didn't mean she'd like it.

"Yes."

Padma slipped on her cloak, and Parvati, now entirely exposed to the chilly breeze, went back inside. Blaise and Padma were left alone in the corridor.

"Why do I have a feeling that everyone is going to know about us by dinnertime?" asked Blaise. Padma smiled.

"Don't worry," she said. "I know my sister. She won't tell a soul."

He breathed deeply. "Alright," he conceded. "I trust your judgement."

* * *

**Friendship is back on the table! Perhaps, as time goes on, their friendship will blossom into something more... :D Thanks for reading!**


	5. Fourth Year: Always

**HARRY POTTER AIN'T MINE.**

* * *

**Fourth Year: Always**

By far, the most heavily anticipated event of the year for Hogwarts students as a whole was the Yule Ball, which went along with the Triwizard Tournament.

Padma disagreed thoroughly with the sentiment. She didn't know how to dance, she wasn't sure of what to wear or how to conduct herself, and besides, there wasn't anybody she could go with as a date, barring Blaise, who stated that it would be a bad idea considering what was happening. Slytherins were more entitled to support Cedric Diggory's campaign, simply because they hated Harry Potter, where Padma, who'd always liked Harry – as a friend, of course, it was Parvati who _liked _him – was more likely to side with him, regardless of how he'd managed to get his name in the Goblet of Fire.

Her other issues were aggressively dealt with by Parvati, who excitedly informed her that she had set the two of them up with none other than Harry himself and one of his best friends, Ron Weasley. Padma had always thought the boy had some serious inferiority complex issues, what with being in the shadow of the Boy-Who-Lived and Hermione Granger, who was admittedly the brightest witch of her age. She supposed she could find some kind of common ground with him, though judging by their tastes and frankly the company they kept, it was doubtful.

As Parvati fixed her sister's hair into a plait, putting a spin on it with some gold jewelry sent in by their mother for the occasion, Padma did what she usually did and pondered.

"I'm so excited," said Parvati, and if Padma observed her sister's expression at the moment, she knew that the girl's cheeks would be flushed with said excitement. Her crush on Harry was remarkably long-lasting for a girl prone to a different fancy every week – every day, at times.

Padma shifted uncomfortably for the umpteenth time. She knew almost certainly that Parvati was only Harry's date because Cho Chang, his first choice, rejected him. But she didn't have the nerve to break her sister's heart with that sort of news, especially on the night of the Yule Ball.

"Me too," she replied, with a feeble grin.

* * *

Things went as Padma anticipated, with Parvati basking in the light that came with being Harry Potter's date and Padma herself standing off to the side with Ron Weasley who was as dull a conversationalist as she expected. She did her best, behaved as politely as she could when taking into consideration the ghastly orange robes he wore, but was forced to give up when the four Triwizard Champions swept in. The only real surprise was Hermione Granger, who looked beautifully dressed up and was smiling radiantly. For a heartbeat, Padma was extremely jealous, especially when considering the Bulgarian eye-candy on Hermione's arm, but it passed once she locked eyes with someone across the crowd.

Blaise's robes were black as everyone except for Ron had chosen, but on him, they appeared more clean-cut and tailored, more suited for his frame. He had hit his growth spurt before his friends, and, standing with Malfoy, Nott, Crabbe and Goyle, he came across as comically lanky. Nott seemed to be catching up, and Malfoy was as sulky as always, muttering to Pansy Parkinson, who was surprisingly dashing in her green attire.

The dancing began, and reluctantly on both ends, Ron and Padma waltzed about the ballroom, waving to people they knew on the way and trying desperately not to step on each other's feet. Padma was well versed in the art of ballroom dancing, but it seemed that Ron required a few more lessons. It would have been amusing, she supposed, if she were watching from the sidelines, but as it was _her _feet that he was constantly stomping on, things weren't as pleasant.

She was relieved when the band started up, and had a seat with her sister and their dates. Things quickly turned on their heads when, after half an hour, they were still sitting alone at the tables, watching everyone else have fun. By the set to her mouth, Parvati was extremely irritated with Harry, and Padma presumed that her flight of fancy had ended as it would have eventually.

A Beauxbatons boy approached and asked Padma's twin to dance. She fervently responded, perhaps appearing too eager, but the boy seemed to find it enjoyable. Padma watched glumly as her sister disappeared into the gyrating crowd, then glanced over at the two Gryffindors.

"Do you want to dance?" she said half-heartedly to her date. Ron shook his head, seeming preoccupied with something – or, as Padma's eyes followed his, _someone _– else. She didn't bother with a goodbye when she left, figuring she could find her friends, if they weren't also having a good time. The butterbeer distracted her on the way, looking so very inviting, and after taking a sip, Padma had to conclude that it tasted delicious as well.

Two taps to her shoulder, and she spun around. Blaise stood with a glass of his own. He smirked when their eyes met.

"This must be some fantastic butterbeer," he said, surreptitiously moving his hand over his lips. Padma mimicked the gesture and felt her cheeks flame when she felt the froth that had been left behind. She savagely scraped at it. Blaise took a gentlemanly sip of his, but even then, the mustache remained. He chose to lick his lips, grinning the entire time. Padma rolled her eyes in good nature.

"Don't you have a date?" she asked of him. He shook his head.

"I usually pair off with Tracey," he explained, and Padma gave a curt nod – that girl had an explosively violent temper and yet Blaise still liked to spend time with her. She supposed he was probably interested, in which case, any character flaw was significantly diminished. "She decided to go with Adrian Pucey. Annoying little bugger."

"I'm sure," agreed Padma. "Is it because she's going with him, or his personality in general?"

Blaise raised an eyebrow. "I'd prefer to hear a Mandrake scream than have a conversation with him. He's terribly arrogant."

"Why do you like Malfoy, then?" she questioned.

"Ha," he said without enthusiasm, but then appeared thoughtful. "Once you get past all the codswallop he shows off," Blaise said carefully, "he's a different person. I've known him the longest of any of us, so I suppose I should know."

Padma looked over at Malfoy now, and he was snogging Pansy Parkinson under the mistletoe. Her nose wrinkled. Blaise didn't bother to look.

"She's been pestering him with that bloody mistletoe all day," he muttered. "Might as well do it and get it over with."

Blaise had already told Padma about the shaky status of the snarky Slytherin couple's relationship, and the odds didn't look good. But she wasn't interested in hearing about Slytherin politics at the moment.

"Do you want to dance?" she said impulsively. He looked at her with open surprise.

"You dance?" he said incredulously.

"Sometimes," she defended. "When there's a big crowd to hide in and I can afford to make a fool of myself."

He chuckled. "Alright."

But Blaise led the way to the dance floor, and keeping with Padma's concerns, parted crowds of people until they were shielded in the middle with no one to see them. The song changed to a fast-paced number, catchy and very infectious. It seemed that Blaise was being impulsive today as well. He grabbed Padma's hand and spun her around to start things off. She gasped in surprise and was met with a naughty grin.

"Dance with me?" he asked, holding out a hand.

"Gladly," she answered, smiling back.

Their routine was at first more of the stiff ballroom-style dancing than the crazy, uninhibited moves of their classmates, but slowly they began to let loose. Soon, and Padma assumed it was the butterbeer, they were as rowdy and uncaring as everyone else, at least until the song changed once more to a slow, calming ballad. Couples began to slow-dance, and with the change of pace, began to throw Blaise and Padma very strange looks. Padma was about to leave, figuring they'd return when the faster tunes began to play, but was taken by surprise when she was suddenly pulled into Blaise's arms.

"You weren't about to leave me alone, were you, Padma?" he asked her.

"I thought you were coming with me," she responded.

"But we're the best at waltzes," he smirked.

Hermione Granger and Viktor Krum danced past them, giggling and laughing and seeming to have a grand old time. Padma watched them for a moment, mesmerized, as everyone else in the room, by the beauty and perfection of their relationship. It was Blaise who jerked her back to reality with a well-placed_ jerk._

"Hermione looks so pretty tonight," said Padma, in an attempt to explain her staring.

Blaise looked at her with exasperation.

"You've always been pretty," he said softly, and his fingers curled just a little bit tighter around hers.

* * *

**Aww. Yes, I realize I haven't updated in a ridiculously long time, *I deserve hate* but I've been busy with work and such. Please accept my apology and expect an update by the end of the month. I promise. x**


	6. Fifth Year: Separated

**I don't own HP or its characters.**

**Fifth Year: Separated**

Parvati wasn't one to venture into the library too often, but Professor Trelawney had suggested to her a book that assisted potential Divination enthusiasts in discovering their personal Inner Eye, and Parvati never passed up an opportunity to spend time on one of her great loves. She'd asked Lavender to go with her, but the silly girl was more partial to the idea of snogging her current significant other, Davy something-or-other. It was irritating, but Lavender often did things like that. It was times like these that Parvati was grateful that her sister was a book-loving, open-ear kind of girl.

She decided if she found Padma in the library – which would, undoubtedly – she would sit with her for a while. At the very least, she'd be able to read more than a few pages of the book, and Padma wouldn't interrupt her the way that Lavender did so frequently.

The library, as it was most weekends, was devoid of student presence, because although it was OWLs year, it was the first weekend of Hogsmeade. The only people here were the resident bookworm – Hermione Granger – sans Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, a smattering of Ravenclaw fifth years aching to take the title of best student from Granger, and surprisingly, no Padma among them. Parvati figured her sister was also enjoying the warm weather, and headed for the Restricted Section, where the Divination book had been put only because it was so abused by sceptical students of the craft.

She handed her note to the librarian, Madam Pince, and was let in after a suspicious once-over. The room was dark and rather mucky, but thankfully, the Inner Eye book was near the entrance and she didn't have to spend too much time. As Parvati headed back out, she heard a fleeting giggle, one she only recognized because she lived for fifteen years with the owner of it. Curious, she stepped back and walked cautiously to the back, already armed with an idea of what – or who – she would find.

They had been talking in the back corner, undisturbed, when Parvati burst in on them.

"Padma!" she said. But her sister wasn't alone. From the dark shadows of the corner stepped another – the individual who appeared to be Padma's best friend.

"Blaise," nodded Parvati, addressing the Slytherin with the curtness she reserved specifically for him. He responded in kind.

"What are you doing here?" squeaked Padma. Parvati's eyes narrowed. The girl only spoke that way when she was feeling particularly guilty. And yet, neither of them possessed the usual signs of heavy-duty snogging – they were perfectly well-kept and groomed. The neat couple.

"I was looking for a book... what's the matter, Padma?" Parvati raised an eyebrow. "I said I'd keep it a secret, didn't I?"

"Well, yes," Padma hedged, "but –"

"What were _you _doing in here? It's dark... and you're alone," said her twin suspiciously. "Zabini?"

"Not all of us are like you Gryffindors," said Blaise measuredly. "We _can _control ourselves."

Parvati rolled her eyes. "Oh, I almost forgot." She pulled out her wand and delivered a quick hex to Blaise's stomach. He winced at the pain, which hovered and then disappeared. It was designed for a quick, easy, almost undetectable punishment. Padma glared.

"Parvati! What was that for?" she demanded, as she tended to Blaise's now-invisible wounds.

"For the comment he made about Lavender's weight this morning," muttered Parvati. "Not all of us are anorexic Slytherins, Zabini."

And then she left.

* * *

Dumbledore's Army was one of Hermione and Ron's greatest ideas. It was the perfect opportunity for Umbridge-haters to band together and teach themselves the proper mechanics of Defense Against the Dark Arts and not the useless theory she was forcing down their throats. Padma was well-aware, however, of the conception of the Inquisitorial Squad, who knew very well of the D.A.'s existence and only needed to figure out where they held their meetings.

When a colossal explosion tore through the wall of the Room of Requirement, she knew that they had found out. The members of the D.A. were given one look at the toad-like face of Professor Umbridge before she commanded her Slytherin army to capture each and every one of them. To her surprise, Blaise was not part of the group; instead, Padma was grabbed by a member of Draco Malfoy's gang.

"Let – go – of – me!" he screeched, writhing in the taller, chubbier girl's arms. She was rewarded with a kick to the shins and a wand in her back.

"You'd better stop fighting," the Slytherin girl sneered, "or I'll rip all that hair of yours out."

Padma and the others were taken to the dungeons and thrown in as a group, while a few Gryffindors including Harry, Ron and Hermione were interrogated by Umbridge in her office. The dungeon was remarkably clean, though it was quite dark, and so Padma assumed that they were in the Slytherin dungeons. When a few members peeked out to see who was guarding them and was met with a hex to the face by a quick Slytherin, her suspicions were confirmed.

"Oi!" called out Justin Finch-Fletchley. "Why don't you let us go?"

"Shut up, Finch-Fletchley," someone drawled back, "and sit down." Padma would know that distinguished, condescending tone of voice anywhere.

"Bl-Zabini?" she said loudly. Everyone else in the cage turned to look at her. From outside the dungeon, her secret friend showed his face. He smirked for the benefit of the unknowing prisoners, but to her alone, he winked.

"Be quiet, Patil," he snapped.

She thought quickly. "I have to use the loo," she tried, hoping he would understand.

Blaise did. He charmed open the door, to the disbelief of her fellow prisoners, and took her harshly by the arm. "Watch the others," he told the other guard, who Padma recognized as Warrington. The broad-shouldered Slytherin nodded. "It's always a sad state when perfectly acceptable Purebloods side with Mudbloods," he sighed, shaking his head at Padma. Blaise nodded once, then escorted her away.

When they were far enough from the cage, he let her go.

"Let me go," she asked him. "Let all of us go."

"I can't," he said regretfully. "You broke the rules."

"_You _break the rules every day, along with your Slytherin brothers," she argued. "We made a club. How is that hurting anyone?"

"It's treason," he maintained. "I can't do it, Padma. I'm sorry."

"Then why did you bring me here?" she demanded.

"To explain how sorry I am," he told her, offering a half-smile.

"Are you still going to pretend you hate me?" whispered Padma.

He looked up and down the hallway, then back at her. "Padma," he said quietly. "Remember what I told you first year. We're from different groups, you and I. You chose your side, and I chose mine. We can't be friends publicly because of the repercussions it would have for both of us." He lifted her chin. "I'm sorry."

Padma glared at him and slapped away his hand. "Fine, then," she said sarcastically. "I'll see you later."

She marched back to the dungeon and wouldn't look at him again after that.

* * *

**Uh-oh! Things are starting to get a little touchy between Padma and Blaise as the Second Wizarding War grows near! :O I wonder what will happen next year... Thanks for reading!**


	7. Sixth Year: Morality

**I don't own Harry Potter. **

* * *

**Sixth Year: Morality**

Since the stint in the Slytherin dungeons, Padma had yet to exchange two words with Blaise. The closest they'd come to conversation was in the hallway, when he'd stepped on her foot – she didn't know if it was by accident or on purpose – and apologized curtly. She said nothing in response. Her anger at him was like a vengeful collection of tidal waves nearing the surface, close to boiling over and with every exchange she had with Blaise, getting closer.

The atmosphere at Hogwarts had changed over the course of the summer, growing darker and gloomier, even more so than before. Students grew apart, separating into the two groups that would define them even more than their houses – the Light side, with Harry Potter, Albus Dumbledore, and the Order of the Phoenix, and the Dark Side, with Voldemort intent on securing a victory for the first time in many years.

Padma and Parvati's parents had tried to remove them from school, but Padma sided with her sister over her parents, for once, and asked to stay at Hogwarts. If something were to arise, if they needed to fight for what they believed in, they wanted to be there.

At the Zabini house, things were very different. Each day, Blaise defended his mother to angry Howlers, letters sent by civilized Owls, and in-person visits. Some were their old friends – the Malfoys, the Crabbes, the Goyles – requesting that they join up with the Dark Side, recruit Blaise not as a Death Eater, but an ally. Others, like the Weasleys, were adamant about Dumbledore's leading them to freedom. But neither Blaise nor his mother would be taken in. From birth, he had been taught that self-preservation was of the utmost importance. Choosing to remain neutral was one of the most dangerous paths one could take, but once the War was over, it guaranteed their survival.

While both Padma and Blaise's decisions were made outside of Hogwarts, it was what occurred inside that made a world of difference. Each day, Light and Dark did battle with each other, whether it was in the form of severed friendships, covert hexes in the hallway, or outright fistfights perpetrated almost entirely by Gryffindors and Slytherins. The sky grew dark, and so did the students' spirits.

* * *

"Did you hear?" asked Terry. Padma put down the book she was only pretending to read and looked up at her housemate with a raised eyebrow. The rest of the common room was buzzing with activity, with Ravenclaws of all ages perched on every piece of furniture they could find, not, as Padma was, reading, but conversing spiritedly.

"Hear what?" she questioned. Unlike her sister, Terry could always be counted on for accurate information. It was a sad realization but a truthful one.

"Apparently," he replied, eyes flitting over her book for a moment – it was a Ravenclaw quirk, to examine each other's choice of literature – "Draco Malfoy is a Death Eater."

Padma's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean, a Death Eater?" she repeated. "He's only sixteen – he isn't even of age!"

"I heard it from a Slytherin, in the corridor," shrugged Terry. "I figure they don't lie about those sorts of things."

"Which Slytherin?" Not _all _of them were on the Dark Side, she hoped.

"I think it was Zabini," said Terry thoughtfully. "Perhaps he's one as well."

Her stomach lurched. "I have to go, Terry," she said abruptly, and abandoned the book entirely. Her friend's brow crinkled in confusion, but when he asked her what was wrong, she only said she needed to get something to eat, and then left, the portrait door slamming loudly behind her. It went unnoticed by her housemates, but Terry was suspicious. He wasn't a Ravenclaw because he was dim.

* * *

The next morning, over a warm breakfast and a cold disposition, owls flew, delivering mail to select students. One of those students was a sullen Blaise Zabini, who, after severing all contact with his secret friend, had become very bad-tempered. But it didn't matter much – Slytherins were meant to be that way. Draco made it a point to stare glumly into his oatmeal each morning. Only Theo was at least halfway chipper, but it had soured considerably from what he was known for the year before.

When a simple white envelope found its way into Blaise's hands, he was at first unbothered. It wasn't until he saw a familiar script peeking through the translucent paper did he realize who it was. With a new enthusiasm, he opened it and unfolded the short note.

_Third floor. The Armoury. 9:30._

Three short phrases. Cold. Emotionless. Padma was all business.

He glanced over at the Ravenclaw table. She wasn't even looking at him.

* * *

The Armoury was a long stretch of hallway dedicated entirely to the many suits of armour that provided an intimidating if not nerve-wracking air to an otherwise bright corridor. But because the light was provided by the natural sun that coursed through the half-circle-shaped windows, Blaise stood in the semi-darkness. There was no sunshine that morning.

He heard the footsteps just before nine-thirty, measured and quiet. Then, Padma's shadow appeared around the corner, followed by her in her corporeal form. When she saw him waiting, a few minutes early, she didn't look surprised. Even after a year, her awareness of his habits had not lessened.

They stood in silence for a moment, many metres away from each other, before Padma closed some of the distance and spoke.

"Is Draco Malfoy a Death Eater?" she asked him quietly. He blinked once. Her question had come entirely out of the left field, which was strange. She was usually so predictable. He'd liked that about her, once.

"Why do you want to know, Padma?" he responded, shifting his weight. While it wasn't exactly secret, Draco's activities under Voldemort's wing, Blaise wasn't about to admit openly to what was supposed to be Draco's problem to handle.

Her face shifted left slightly when he spoke her name, as if she'd been slapped. "It's important," was all she would say.

"To who?"

"_To me,_" said Padma, and when she stepped closer in emphasis, her face becoming illuminated by what light ventured into the hall, Blaise was surprised to see her eyes bright with tears.

"Padma?" said Blaise quietly. "Do you think I'm a Death Eater, as well?"

She jerked her face away from the light once more. "Just tell me, Blaise. Please." She choked on the last word, and he realized just how much it meant to her to hear his answer.

"No," he said simply. She heaved a deep breath, but whether it was in relief or annoyance, he couldn't tell. It was too damn dark. Why in Merlin's name had she asked to meet here, of all places? There were plenty of secret areas around the school that provided the required light needed to have a conversation.

But when Padma raised her eyes, it occurred to him that she had chosen it purposefully.

"You're with them, aren't you." Her tone was measured once more. The emotion that had saturated it for the one word had dissipated. Blaise was marginally impressed by her control.

"No," he said once more. "I've chosen not to take a side."

She scoffed. "Do you know what danger you're putting yourself in, not choosing?"

"I'm aware," he said, controlling his own voice, forcing out the irritation and defensiveness. "It's what's best for me."

"You're selfish," she whispered, not giving him an ounce worth of notice. "You don't care who gets killed. Just as long as you survive."

He swallowed, and suddenly, he was thankful for the darkness. "That's not true," he said softly.

"How do I know that?" demanded Padma, her shout echoing off of every available wall in the corridor. "How do I know you wouldn't kill me just so you could get out unscathed? How do I know you wouldn't kill your own mother to –"

"I _wouldn't_!" he snapped. "You don't understand, Padma – you've never understood! Seven years we've known each other, and you still _don't understand_! It isn't about us or them, Dark or Light, any of that! I choose not to fight because I refuse to sacrifice myself for a hopeless cause!"

"How on earth is it hopeless?" Padma shot back, insulted. "We can do it – Harry is brave, he knows –"

"He's sixteen! What in Merlin does he know?"

"More than you," she hissed. "He knows that we're all depending on him. He's willing to sacrifice himself for that _hopeless cause_ –"

"Are you?" he asked her, and she stepped back in surprise.

"Y-yes," she stammered out. "I am."

"Why?" Blaise couldn't help asking. Padma looked bewildered, as if the answer was so obvious even a dimwit could figure it out.

"Because it's the right thing to do," she said.

Blaise absorbed her response. It was as if she was nine years old again, innocent, wide-eyed, curious about the world. But the Padma in front of him was sixteen, wise beyond her years. She should have known by now that the odds were stacked against her. That the world wasn't a beautiful place. That the choice she made now would affect her in every way.

He thought his decision was the best one. But when faced with such a simple, childish belief – what the _right thing to do _was – he was forced to question his.

For a moment, he was unsteady on his feet. Then he found his footing and turned, leaving Padma alone in the Armoury with what she thought was right and what he did.

* * *

**A confrontation, yes, but not as explosive as one might believe. Instead, it is a quiet pondering of what they know of themselves and each other. The way an intelligent Slytherin and an intelligent Ravenclaw should converse. Hope you enjoyed! Sorry about the late-ish update! ~ dp**


	8. Seventh Year: Potent

**I am not responsible for the lovable madness that is the Harry Potter series.**

* * *

**Seventh Year: Potent**

He wasn't supposed to be here. His mother had said they would stay neutral, that they would be safe in their large, comfortable chateau and when it all ended, when one side or the other triumphed, they would return and make amends. It was what was right for them, she said. But for the past few months, Blaise began to doubt what he knew of his morality.

The corridor he stood in was dark, almost as dark as the one he'd once exchanged some harsh words with Padma Patil in. He had his wand at the ready, but his mind was elsewhere. Distantly, the sounds of cutthroat battle penetrated the walls, not loud enough to remove him from his thoughts.

Blaise was hiding. That was what cowards did.

Somewhere out _there, _he knew Padma was fighting alongside her friends, whipping her wand about in that talented, skilled way she had done in all the years he had known her. He wished that he could summon the courage she always seemed to possess, regardless of the house she hailed from. He leaned his head against the cold stone wall, cursing each of his indiscretions.

* * *

Wandwork was something that Padma relied on only when it was absolutely necessary. She preferred to use intellect and logic to solve her problems, not violence. But there was no choice now. Death Eaters were not here to reason; Acromantulas wouldn't pause to hear their meal speak. It was only brute force that they would respond to, and what would save her life, hopefully.

Parvati was off in another area of the castle, battling vengeful werewolves with Lavender and some other Gryffindors. Padma wished desperately that her twin could be _here _with her, just in case. She'd already watched Fred Weasley take the fall, shared in his family's mourning during the brief spell that Voldemort allowed them. The last thing she wanted was to see her sister join the growing line of bodies, people who had once been her friends, her roommates, her peers.

Padma was currently engaged in a dangerous battle with one of the lesser Death Eaters, though she was quickly learning that 'lesser' did not mean 'less adept.' Twice, she'd nearly lost an arm to a well-placed Severing Spell. Their mêlée was without words, which made things more efficient and more deadly. She really ought not to be thinking about other things right now.

But still, her mind wandered.

Until she was hit straight in the chest.

* * *

Blaise watched Padma in combat with the blonde Death Eater, his scraggly curls unkempt and characteristic of someone who had gone long without sleep or bath. He was thoroughly unappealing, but he was a bloody good duellist. Padma was just barely keeping up with his experienced spells. He'd seen her in close call at least twice, but she recovered quickly. It amazed him how willing she was to put her life on the line for what could very well end with the Dark Lord rising up over all.

From his hiding spot in the alcove, he watched over the entirety of the battle, his gaze continually travelling back to the dark-haired Ravenclaw facing off against the Death Eater. It was unfortunate that his eyes happened to be off her when she was hit.

She collapsed to the ground, gasping in both pain and terror, and the Death Eater raised his wand once more, lips pulling back in a yellow-toothed grin, preparing to utter the curse that would knock her down for the last time. Blaise's jaw clenched and he stepped out of the hidden corridor, muttering a spell in her defense.

But he didn't see that another person had already struck out a defensive hex. It hit the Death Eater's forehead at an off-centre point, but it was enough to incapacitate him. He lay in a motionless heap, one of many at this point, and both Blaise and Padma turned to see Terry Boot with his wand still raised. He was breathing hard, but looked relieved.

"Are you alright?" he asked his housemate. She nodded, passing him a smile that which Blaise ached to receive instead of Terry. They hugged quickly, then turned in opposite directions to battle. Blaise slunk back into the shadows, bitter and disappointed. They looked like the perfect crime-fighting couple. Nothing complicated or difficult muddled up their relationship, not like what _he_ shared with her.

He wanted so desperately to tell her the truth, _make _their relationship simple. Now was the perfect time; they were in the midst of war, it was almost disturbingly possible that they would not live through the night, and she looked so beautiful –

But then, he remembered. Her housemate.

* * *

The lull came about once more, and the Light Side was given a chance to relax, while Harry decided what he was going to do. Padma was prepared to fight to the death, defending him and what he stood for. She deeply admired him for his bravery, courage to a point that she couldn't understand but respected nonetheless. During the break, she found her sister and even hugged Lavender, who looked as surprised as Padma was. But they were fighting a life-or-death war – there was no need for silly schoolgirl squabbles.

Terry left to find Michael Corner and Anthony Goldstein, his closest friends and roommates, after offering her a comforting smile and another warm hug. Padma leaned back against one of the walls in the Entrance Hall, eyes on the destroyed Entrance doors, from which she could see sparks exploding into the air in the distance. It occurred to her that Blaise was probably not around to see this. He told her he had chosen not to get involved – most likely, he and his mother had left the UK, perhaps travelled to Italy.

She hoped he was safe.

* * *

"Padma," came a hushed voice from the shadows behind her. She turned, anticipating Terry or someone else she had yet to say her potential goodbyes to, but in the darkness of the hidden corridor, nothing stood out. She squinted in suspicion, but before she could get close enough to make out a face, she was pulled into the alcove.

In a panic, Padma opened her mouth to scream, but it was stifled with a pair of lips, crashing down upon her own with furious urgency. The body against hers pushed back into the stone wall, frenzied and allowing no room to back out. It was a terrifying second before she recognized the familiar scent of her secret best friend.

Despite the house he belonged to and the characteristics he was supposed to – and did – embody as a Slytherin, Blaise had always smelled like vanilla. It belied all that he was supposed to be, but over the years of their friendship, Padma knew that he wasn't. He was capable of kindness, generosity, selflessness. She had seen it.

She pushed back, gripping his robes with matching insistence, and he gave a startled groan.

"Padma," he whispered again, his voice choked, "I –"

"Blaise, what are you do –" she interrupted, but so did he. He kissed her again, hungrily. He couldn't get enough of her.

But he knew it had to end eventually. The noises were starting again, the same hurried, shrieking, pulse-pounding noises he heard when he stood here alone. Their two minutes of heaven were over.

Padma wasn't prepared for him to pull back. He let go of her too quickly, only to yank her back for one last kiss, and then, Blaise let his hands fall.

In the darkness, which his eyes had adjusted to, he watched her slide down to the floor, dazed in a dissimilar way to the hex she'd received not an hour before. Under different circumstances, he would have taken the time to look over her dishevelled form, perhaps smirk at his handiwork, but time was what he didn't have.

He needed to leave. He'd reminded her of what they had, what they could have had, and now it was in the hands of this last skirmish, and indirectly, Harry Potter.

For once, Blaise put his faith in that four-eyed, inept, half-blood Gryffindor.

* * *

**Hope you enjoyed! Please leave a review ;)**


	9. Epilogue: Mathematics

**HP is the product of J.K. Rowling's imagination, not disturbinglyprofound.**

* * *

**Mathematics**

All the sparkles were distracting, really. Padma knew that the store was merely trying to show off as much as possible, in hopes of securing a few hundred Galleons of their money, but with this sort of arrogance, she was rather turned off.

"What do you think of this one, Padma?" asked her shopping partner. Terry was grinning, rolling his eyes in a way that made her think he agreed with her. But in his hand was a classic diamond ring, not too ostentatious and yet it fit in perfectly with the rest of the jewellery.

"It's beautiful," she smiled, holding it up to the light.

"Try it on," he urged.

"I don't know if it'll fit," Padma hesitated. "My knuckles are larger, aren't they?"

"Don't be silly," he laughed. "You're the same size you always were."

* * *

The brisk, chilly air wasn't much of a deterrent for the aging Mrs. Zabini, who, at nearly sixty, was still in possession of many of the eligible bachelors of the Wizarding World. Her current status, however, was that of grieving widow, and for once, Blaise had to think wryly, he had died of natural causes. His mother had never admitted outright her hand in her husbands' deaths, but the suspicion was always there. Unfortunate that the authorities were never able to gather enough evidence.

"Blaise, darling," said his mother, stopping them just in front of one of the most esteemed jewellery stores in all of England. "Perhaps Pansy would appreciate a gift."

"Mother," he said exasperatedly. "I've already purchased something for Pansy."

Mrs. Zabini's nose wrinkled ever-so-slightly. "Sapphires are far too... inexpensive for a woman who could be your future wife."

It was Blaise's turn to wrinkle his nose. "I've told you, Mother, that Pansy and I are far from an item."

"Yes, well." His mother could be quite idealistic for such a sly, cunning woman. "It wouldn't hurt to look, would it? I believe I will require a new set of emeralds for Draco and Astoria's engagement."

For all the poor choices Draco had made in his life, Blaise agreed wholeheartedly with his latest – Astoria was prim and proper, yes, not unlike her sister, but she possessed a deep and unwavering sense of warmth, truly uncharacteristic of a Slytherin, but yet her crackling wit and charm made her the lure of many men. Draco, of course, only wanted the best. And Astoria was as good as they came, at least to many.

Blaise could beg to differ.

"Fine," he relented, and held the door open for his mother. Though he welcomed the cozy warmth of what was otherwise an eyesore of a store, he would have preferred the biting cold, at least as an alternative to what lay in front of him.

Standing far too close together was an older Terry Boot and Padma Patil, with the rosy cheeks of a newly engaged couple. She was absolutely radiant, a vision in purple, while he, Blaise observed with revulsion, was dressed in tattered robes, utterly dishevelled, and far beneath her – damn if he was a Pureblood.

Blaise left his mother near the front of the store, where she was intensely perusing the emeralds she so desired to purchase, and casually – though pointedly – glided to the back, where the engagement rings were. Doubtfully, as he watched the couple marvel over an expensive ring, he wondered if Boot could afford anything here.

"Mr. Zabini," came a clear voice. The gentleman who was responsible for the jewellery Blaise and his mother purchased had evidently found them. "How may I help you today, sir?" Usually, the man was meek; the War had obviously put some backbone into him. Blaise didn't mind, so long as the half-blood remembered what his status was.

When both Boot and Padma looked up, however, he was suddenly perturbed by his jeweller's confidence. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Boot stiffen.

"No," snapped Blaise. "Not now."

Bewildered, the cashier apologized and retreated. But the damage was done.

"Zabini," said Boot, sounding hesitant. "Fancy meeting you here." He laughed nervously.

"Yes," said Blaise, without looking at either him or Padma. "Purchasing your wedding rings, I see?"

"My fiancée's been insisting on it," Terry admitted, glancing at Padma. Blaise couldn't bear to look. She smiled back at her former housemate encouragingly. "I proposed, but I'm still looking for the perfect ring."

"Well, good luck," said Blaise gruffly. It was like being put under the Cruciatus Curse and then being asked to brew the Draught of Living Death. But that was what this was. The pain was unbearable.

He needed to leave.

Without mustering a goodbye, he hurried to catch up with his mother, who was still at the emerald cases.

"Who were you talking to, Blaise?" she asked, when he returned.

"Old schoolmates," he responded vaguely.

"Oh?" She turned and craned her head to look. "Is that Terry Boot with Padma Patil?"

"Yes, Mother," muttered Blaise. "Are you finished?"

"I think I would be interested in this piece here." She pointed out an emerald-encrusted centaur pin. "It's quite majestic, is it not?"

"Sure," he said agreeably. "Why don't I wait outside until you're finished?"

"In the cold?" she said skeptically. "I don't think so." She called over the jeweller, who avoided Blaise and instead paid attention to his mother. To finalize the purchase, she was asked to sign some documents at the back of the shop and provide verification. Blaise normally found it tedious – there were better magical ways of verifying these things – but now, it was intensified.

But his mother was already in the back, chatting animatedly with Boot and Padma. He caught up with the conversation from his position a few paces away.

"Congratulations," said Mrs. Zabini, as her pin was wrapped and boxed.

"On what?" asked Terry.

"Your engagement, of course. You two would make a fine Pureblood couple."

Blaise clenched his teeth. Fine Pureblood couple, his wand –

"Oh," laughed Padma. "Terry and I are not engaged. I'm helping him pick out a ring for his fiancée – she's a close friend and trusts my judgement."

He was so surprised by the sudden news that for a moment, he stood transfixed.

She was not engaged. She was not committed permanently to anyone.

_He still had a chance._

"Padma," he said, before he could stop himself – how utterly Gryffindor of him – and she looked up in surprise. Boot, too, but Blaise didn't care too much about that. "Would you mind if we speak in private?"

His mother was smiling to herself when Padma obliged. Terry was only suspicious.

* * *

He took a deep breath. It was one thing to speak out of the blue – quite another to speak without a thought of what he was supposed to say.

But in the end, he didn't have to speak first.

"You are a puzzle, Blaise Zabini," said Padma quietly. He blinked.

Fifteen years flipped through in an instant. He was taken back to that day, two years before Hogwarts, a million before the War that would split them further than they'd ever been split before, when they'd chatted in the corner, away from the antics of their Pureblood brothers and sisters.

0

_"You're a puzzle, Padma," he said quietly, and she blinked. _

_"A puzzle?" she repeated._

_He nodded. "But I like puzzles," he said._

0

And here they were, fifteen years the wiser. But fifteen years had not given him the right words for this moment. Padma had been given enough time, though, to think of exactly what she wanted to say to the man who had first been an intelligent acquaintance, then a friend, then an enemy, and now –

"A puzzle," he repeated. "Well, I suppose we're one and the same, then, aren't we?"

A smile touched her lips. "I suppose so," she agreed.

He licked his lips. "Why don't we simplify things then," he suggested. "Would you like to go first?"

"After you," she murmured politely. He appreciated the gesture.

"I love you," he said simply. "And damn, does it feel good to say it."

Padma laughed. "Me too," she replied. "But that doesn't simplify anything."

"I've realized that much," Blaise sighed. He reached out to touch her face, trace his thumb over her bottom lip. "I apologize for all my wrongs – does that unravel things a bit more?"

"If I forgive you, yes." Her smile said enough in that respect.

"Blaise," came a new voice. His hand fell from her face. The moment was broken for now, but not for long.

"Mother," he said, his tone cordial, "you've met Padma Patil, haven't you?"

"I have." Mrs. Zabini held out a gloved hand to Padma, who shook it politely.

"Would it be impolite of me to escort Miss Patil to Florean Florescue's?" asked Blaise.

"Now? It's quite cold, isn't it, for ice cream?"

Padma looked to Blaise, who, after all these years, was wearing the smirk she so adored, the one that suggested nothing but trouble.

* * *

**Well, kids, it's all over! You can probably guess what'll happen now... love and more love for our lovebirds. Thank you for sticking with me on this very uneven updating path and hope you enjoyed all these years :D Please review!**

**P.S. I believe they are around 24-25 in this last chapter. It wasn't explicitly mentioned so I wanted to clarify. *I don't know why***

**- disturbinglyprofound :)**


End file.
